THE DEATH OF KWASIND by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This poem recounts the tale of Kwasind, a legendary hero from Ojibwe folklore, who meets his end at the hands of the Puk-Wudjies—small, envious fairy-like beings who fear his strength.
The poem
Far and wide among the nations Spread the name and fame of Kwasind; No man dared to strive with Kwasind, No man could compete with Kwasind. But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies, They the envious Little People, They the fairies and the pygmies, Plotted and conspired against him. "If this hateful Kwasind," said they, "If this great, outrageous fellow Goes on thus a little longer, Tearing everything he touches, Rending everything to pieces, Filling all the world with wonder, What becomes of the Puk-Wudjies? Who will care for the Puk-Wudjies? He will tread us down like mushrooms, Drive us all into the water, Give our bodies to be eaten By the wicked Nee-ba-naw-baigs, By the Spirits of the water! So the angry Little People All conspired against the Strong Man, All conspired to murder Kwasind, Yes, to rid the world of Kwasind, The audacious, overbearing, Heartless, haughty, dangerous Kwasind! Now this wondrous strength of Kwasind In his crown alone was seated; In his crown too was his weakness; There alone could he be wounded, Nowhere else could weapon pierce him, Nowhere else could weapon harm him. Even there the only weapon That could wound him, that could slay him, Was the seed-cone of the pine-tree, Was the blue cone of the fir-tree. This was Kwasind's fatal secret, Known to no man among mortals; But the cunning Little People, The Puk-Wudjies, knew the secret, Knew the only way to kill him. So they gathered cones together, Gathered seed-cones of the pine-tree, Gathered blue cones of the fir-tree, In the woods by Taquamenaw, Brought them to the river's margin, Heaped them in great piles together, Where the red rocks from the margin Jutting overhang the river. There they lay in wait for Kwasind, The malicious Little People. 'T was an afternoon in Summer; Very hot and still the air was, Very smooth the gliding river, Motionless the sleeping shadows: Insects glistened in the sunshine, Insects skated on the water, Filled the drowsy air with buzzing, With a far resounding war-cry. Down the river came the Strong Man, In his birch canoe came Kwasind, Floating slowly down the current Of the sluggish Taquamenaw, Very languid with the weather, Very sleepy with the silence. From the overhanging branches, From the tassels of the birch-trees, Soft the Spirit of Sleep descended; By his airy hosts surrounded, His invisible attendants, Came the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin; Like a burnished Dush-kwo-ne-she, Like a dragon-fly, he hovered O'er the drowsy head of Kwasind. To his ear there came a murmur As of waves upon a sea-shore, As of far-off tumbling waters, As of winds among the pine-trees; And he felt upon his forehead Blows of little airy war-clubs, Wielded by the slumbrous legions Of the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin, As of some one breathing on him. At the first blow of their war-clubs, Fell a drowsiness on Kwasind; At the second blow they smote him, Motionless his paddle rested; At the third, before his vision Reeled the landscape into darkness, Very sound asleep was Kwasind. So he floated down the river, Like a blind man seated upright, Floated down the Taquamenaw, Underneath the trembling birch-trees, Underneath the wooded headlands, Underneath the war encampment Of the pygmies, the Puk-Wudjies. There they stood, all armed and waiting, Hurled the pine-cones down upon him, Struck him on his brawny shoulders, On his crown defenceless struck him. "Death to Kwasind!" was the sudden War-cry of the Little People. And he sideways swayed and tumbled, Sideways fell into the river, Plunged beneath the sluggish water Headlong, as an otter plunges; And the birch canoe, abandoned, Drifted empty down the river, Bottom upward swerved and drifted: Nothing more was seen of Kwasind. But the memory of the Strong Man Lingered long among the people, And whenever through the forest Raged and roared the wintry tempest, And the branches, tossed and troubled, Creaked and groaned and split asunder, "Kwasind!" cried they; "that is Kwasind! He is gathering in his fire-wood!" IX
This poem recounts the tale of Kwasind, a legendary hero from Ojibwe folklore, who meets his end at the hands of the Puk-Wudjies—small, envious fairy-like beings who fear his strength. They find his only vulnerability (his crown, which can be harmed only by pine and fir cones), entice him into a sleepy slumber on a summer river, and bombard him to his demise. Even after his passing, his memory lingers in the sound of winter storms cracking through the forest.
Line-by-line
Far and wide among the nations / Spread the name and fame of Kwasind;
But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies, / They the envious Little People,
'If this hateful Kwasind,' said they, / 'If this great, outrageous fellow'
Now this wondrous strength of Kwasind / In his crown alone was seated;
So they gathered cones together, / Gathered seed-cones of the pine-tree,
'T was an afternoon in Summer; / Very hot and still the air was,
Down the river came the Strong Man, / In his birch canoe came Kwasind,
From the overhanging branches, / From the tassels of the birch-trees,
So he floated down the river, / Like a blind man seated upright,
There they stood, all armed and waiting, / Hurled the pine-cones down upon him,
But the memory of the Strong Man / Lingered long among the people,
Tone & mood
The tone carries a ceremonial and mournful quality, flowing with the rhythmic, chant-like pace of oral tradition. There's a poignant irony at play: the mightiest man in the land falls to the smallest creatures wielding the simplest of tools. As the narrative progresses, the atmosphere shifts toward a gentle warmth, with grief evolving into shared remembrance, allowing the hero's spirit to blend with the natural world.
Symbols & metaphors
- The pine cone and fir cone — The fatal weapon is the most unassuming object in the forest — small, natural, and often overlooked. It symbolizes the notion that even the greatest individuals have a concealed weakness, and that the strongest can be defeated by the tiniest of things when those things are used with cleverness and ill intent.
- The river (Taquamenaw) — The river serves as both a backdrop and a representation of fate. Its lazy, slow-moving waters reflect Kwasind's lethargy and lead him quietly toward his demise. In many myths, rivers signify the divide between the world of the living and the unknown beyond.
- The Puk-Wudjies (Little People) — They symbolize the envy and fear that greatness can evoke in those who feel overshadowed. Their smallness is both moral and physical; unable to compete with Kwasind, they choose to conspire against him instead of finding a way to coexist.
- The Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin — Sleep here isn't about rest; it's a weapon—an invisible force that robs Kwasind of his awareness and control. It illustrates how even the mightiest individuals can be rendered powerless by natural forces that they can't combat or even anticipate.
- The winter tempest — In the closing lines, the cracking and roaring of a winter storm represents Kwasind's afterlife. The storm symbolizes how great figures blend into nature and legend after they die—their energy doesn't just disappear; it changes form.
- The abandoned birch canoe — The empty canoe floating upside down is a powerful symbol of loss. It's the final sign of Kwasind in the physical world — a boat without its rider, a life abruptly drained of purpose.
Historical context
This poem is Canto XIX from Longfellow's *The Song of Hiawatha*, which came out in 1855. Longfellow drew inspiration from Henry Rowe Schoolcraft's ethnographic work, which captured the legends and oral traditions of the Ojibwe people living around the Great Lakes. Kwasind, who is Hiawatha's companion, possesses extraordinary physical strength, and his death at the hands of the Puk-Wudjies follows the epic tradition of heroes mourning their close friends. The poem uses trochaic tetrameter — the same rhythmic pattern found in the Finnish national epic *Kalevala*, which Longfellow intentionally mirrored to evoke the essence of ancient oral poetry. *Hiawatha* was hugely popular during its time, introducing many American readers to Indigenous legends, although modern scholars point out that Longfellow heavily filtered these tales through a European Romantic perspective.
FAQ
Kwasind is Hiawatha's dearest friend in Longfellow's epic poem *The Song of Hiawatha*. He embodies extraordinary physical strength, rooted in Ojibwe oral tradition. Throughout the poem, he clears rivers of obstacles and accomplishes tasks beyond the abilities of an ordinary man. His death in this canto marks one of the profound losses Hiawatha experiences.
The Puk-Wudjies (also spelled Pukwudgies) originate from Algonquian folklore. These small, human-like trickster spirits are known for their mischief and can be quite dangerous. In this poem, Longfellow portrays them as the cause of Kwasind's death, driven more by envy and a desire to protect themselves than by any real complaint.
Longfellow taps into the epic tradition of the 'fatal weakness' — reminiscent of Achilles' heel or Siegfried's weak point in Norse legend. The pine cone serves as an absurd weapon, underscoring the message: no sword or spear can harm Kwasind, yet a tiny seed cone tossed by creatures half his size can bring him down. It's a tale illustrating that even the mightiest have a concealed vulnerability.
The poem uses trochaic tetrameter — a rhythm that follows a STRONG-weak pattern, four times in each line. Longfellow drew this directly from the Finnish epic *Kalevala*. The repeated names and phrases ('Kwasind... Kwasind,' 'gathered... gathered') mimic oral storytelling, where such repetition aids listeners in remembering and following the story.
This is a genuinely contested question. Longfellow was inspired by real Ojibwe legends gathered by Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, and he clearly had a deep appreciation for the material. However, he reshaped these stories through a European Romantic lens, applied a Finnish meter, and portrayed Indigenous people in ways that often echoed 19th-century stereotypes of the 'noble savage.' Most contemporary scholars view *Hiawatha* as a reflection of what a white 19th-century poet thought Indigenous life was like, rather than a true representation of Ojibwe tradition.
It's Longfellow's way of illustrating how oral cultures keep their heroes alive. Kwasind doesn't receive a monument or a written account — instead, he merges with the natural world. When winter storms break the trees, folks say it's Kwasind gathering firewood. His spirit endures in the landscape itself. It's a lovely notion: the fallen hero becomes a part of the world he once traversed.
In the full epic, Kwasind's death coincides with the death of Chibiabos, another of Hiawatha's close friends. Together, these losses signal the start of Hiawatha's decline and the collapse of his world. This canto serves a similar purpose to the death of Patroclus in the *Iliad* — it indicates that the hero's golden age is coming to an end.
It follows the tradition of the literary epic — a lengthy narrative poem that highlights a hero's achievements and reflects on his sorrows. Longfellow aimed to create an American counterpart to Homer's *Iliad* or Virgil's *Aeneid*, drawing from Indigenous legends just as those poets tapped into Greek and Roman myths. He specifically noted influences from the Finnish *Kalevala* and Schoolcraft's ethnographic writings.